Monday, I hit the ground trying to grapple with all the post-con housekeeping schtuff that always accumulates after a period away from home (as in, oboy, did I not pay that bill before I left? I better do it immediately...) but it was also February 20, and this marked the 9th anniversary of our having moved to the blessed state of Washington after the purgatory of Florida, and we always mark that with reverence and joy. So we went out to dinner that night at one of our favourite restaurants, had a glass of wine, toasted those nine years and those still to come, everything fine, perfect, hunky dory.
That night, at 2 AM...
Let me just preface this next bit with the factoid that I seem to be a nice and polite and pleasant person and concrud lurgies love to be friendly to me. As in, if there is one available, it'll come out and shake my hand - and inquire whether I recall meeting their friends and cousins that went to cons past. The lurgy that came out of the woodwork to say hello at 2 AM was a kissing cousin to a particularly memorable one of a few years back, one that was immotalised by its own nickname of "WisCholera" - those who were there That Year will recall the swathe that one cut through the con attendees, with, um, exceedingly unpleasant symptoms. Suffice it to say that my oh-dark-hundred wakwe-up call was distressingly similar to the one I had back then. I spent the rest of that night feeling sick and miserable, slept for maybe a fitful hour or so if that, and faced Tuesday wiped out. Only to discover that most anyone who I'd had contact with at the con was laid low with a similar set of symptoms, except that it seemed that I had in fact got off lightly enough whereas others had paid far greater a toll, and some were still in the process of doing that.
Tuesday, I spent drifting through the day in a cottonwool-for-brains fog, trying to get terra firma back under my feet.
Wedndesday it seemed that things were under control, and I did a few more errands that needed done, but I was still not really mentally agile enough to tackle serious brain tasks.
Thursday things were getting a little bit back to normal - but just as I thought I would get February back on track...
Friday morning. I wander past the downstairs bathroom and register that something Is Not Right. I take a closer look and realise that our elderly water heater had finally given up the ghost - and most of the water that the 50-gallon drum contained, which was now sloshing around on the bathroom floor. It was a question of Panic Stations Now, call a plumber, try to shut off the water, try and throw enough towels on the gentle waves lapping at the walls in the bathroom AND the room next door (it must have gone under the wall) to prevent major floods. The plumbers - bless them - arrived in as short an order as could be managed, pronounced our cylinder old enough to be of legal drinking age (it was, apparently, of 1990 vintage...) and - well - obviously it needed to be replaced. Except that here we hit an interesting problem in that the cylinder was housed in a sort of a closet WHICH HAD OBVIOUSLY BEEN BUILT AROUND IT. If you think that this means that the door of said closet was too narrow for the old cylinder to exit with grace, you'd be right. It proved necessary to chip at drywall to be able to create an opening large enough to permit said removal. All of this took noisy, messy, soggy HOURS, and by the time they left the premises I was WIPED. That night, matt_ruff was presenting his new book, "Mirage", at our local indie bookshop - and dammit, I needed something good. So we picked up sticks and went to hear him read, and then we snagged a cup of coffee with him afterwards and wound up giving him a lift to the hotel he was staying at because he was a little under the weather and the ACTUAL weather was cool and wet and pretty much not pleasant for a stroll in the dark even if you WERE feeling one hundred percent. We waved him off to a good night's sleep and the next leg of his tour, came home, checked that the bathroom was still dry, and crashed.
Saturday, we went out to breakfast, and stopped off at a local grocery superstore - and they were selling little pots of what they called "naturally" grown (THEIR italics, not mine - I would have loved to see the unnaturally grown variety, myself...) spring bulbs - so I bought four (they were going for a four-for-$10 kind of deal) and parked them out front when we got home - thinking that one of these days I'd pick up a trowel again and put tehse babies in the ground.
This morning... it started snowing.
And then the sun came out (WHILE IT WAS STILL SNOWING).
And then it all kind of sat there and dithered and could not make up its mind whether it wanted to be winter or spring, and yeah, I was just saying.
And there's the week gone, and I haven't done half of what I though I would do and needed to do, and it's March as near as dammit, and aaaargh.
Okay, I am ready for a new week tomorrow morning. One with no bugs, no dramas, no surprises. I HAVE SOME SERIOUS WORK TO DO, and I am in arrears. I need a quiet and stable week to get this stuff DONE. Okay, Universe? Do we have a deal?